


Golden Feathers

by Sefiru



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Bondage, D/s, Deity/follower relationship, Humor, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Metalworking, Mile High Club, OSHA does not approve of this, Oral Sex, Smut, Tseng's backstory, WAFF, Wing Kink, Workshop sex, acolyte!Tseng, breath play, deity!Cloud, exhibitionism and voyeurism, mood, sacred sexuality, shifter sex, slow comfortable screwing, treasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sefiru/pseuds/Sefiru
Summary: Tseng hasn't always been a Turk. After Rufus dies during meteorfall, Tseng returns to the temple where he was trained. And there he discovers that Cloud is more than he always appeared to be.
Relationships: Cloud Strife/Tseng
Comments: 36
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [For Hire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4738031) by [Guede](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guede/pseuds/Guede). 



> ... very loosely inspired by a minor plot point, but still :)

(1)

Tseng is on the other side of the city when Rufus dies. Struck by a simple piece of debris, falling from the ruined plates of Midgar; the recovery effort has already exhausted any magic, used up any items that could have saved him. He is gone by the time the Turks reach his side.

Among the personal effects he leaves behind is a letter for Tseng. _Don’t you dare follow me,_ it reads. _The world still needs your skills._ In the privacy of his mind, Tseng laughs; such a command would be necessary for a warrior of Wutai, but he isn’t one. Not quite.

(2)

He gives the surviving Turks – all three of them – a month’s liberty, which they will likely spend drinking. His oath to Shinra is dissolved; Aerith is dead, and Zack as well; Cloud Strife has disappeared. Directionless, he turns his thoughts to older vows. 

He was trained in a harsh school, an order dedicated to the service of Gold Weapon. That Weapon has not awakened in centuries, and while it slumbers, the temple sells the services of its acolytes as spies and assassins. Or it did, until Shinra shut down Wutai’s temples in the wake of the war. Tseng still sets aside a tithe out of every paycheck, and he still wears the tilak on his forehead. He wonders if anything else will be left.

(3)

The Temple is in surprisingly good shape; there are signs that someone has been around recently, fixing the place up, but it is empty as Tseng enters. He no longer has his acolyte’s robe, but he has put on a clean suit, and his shoes are freshly polished, though he leaves them beside the door. In the sanctuary, the great statue of Gold Weapon – which is actually made of bronze – is dark with tarnish. Tseng remembers hours spent burnishing it with a toothbrush, and almost smiles. 

On the offering table he places a slim stack of bank drafts and his Full Cure materia, called Mohr. (The other Turks think that naming materia is a personal quirk of his; he lets them.) He took Mohr with him from the temple, and now he brings it back. He settles himself on the floor as if he had never left, and meditates.

(4)

Tseng is not sure how much time has passed when he’s interrupted by a footstep at the door. “Tseng,” says a familiar voice. “I thought you might turn up.”

“Cloud.” Tseng smoothly rises to his feet. “How do you know about this place?”

“I’ve always known, Even if I didn’t remember.” Tseng turns to face him – and stops. Cloud has changed since Tseng last saw him. The spikes of his hair are now aligned into a crest, and his eyes are no longer the greenish-blue of Soldier, but a deep azure. And on his back are wings, broad and golden-feathered, like those on the statue behind him.

“Oh,” Tseng exclaims softly.

Cloud Strife is Gold Weapon.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I had a few things to say to the Planet about it, too. I had to deal with the crisis before my memories returned; she should have called me up much sooner.” In hindsight, the slow awakening of his power should have been obvious. “Anyway, I’m glad to see you here.”

He lays a hand on the back of Tseng’s neck to pull him down a bit, and kisses him on the forehead, just above the tilak. It sends a shiver down Tseng’s spine. Spy and Assassin are the skills the Temple shows to the world, but there are other skills that it keeps for itself, and for its Lord. All acolytes are taught what Gold Weapon asks from those he chooses as companions. Tseng made his vows willingly, and his body reminds him why.

(5)

“You’re not quite the last one left,” Cloud tells him, “But you’re the only one who’s come back. Not to mention the only member of the Order who I met before awakening. How are the rest of the Turks, by the way?”

“They are well, Sir. I told them to meet me in Costa del Sol in three weeks’ time.”

“Do you think they would like to come and work for me?”

“They will work for whoever I tell them to work for, Sir.” And the Temple will not be so strange to them; Tseng has taught them much of what an acolyte should know.

“Excellent. I’ve got a lot of messes to clean up still, and I need some competent staff. Walk with me.”

Tseng has spent most of his life walking behind another. Two paces back, one to the side, eyes always scanning. It is as natural to him as breathing; meditative, almost. He and Cloud circle the Temple, speaking of simple, practical things. Repairs made, work that still needs doing. The topics are not significant; it is time to adjust, to absorb, that Gold Weapon, to whom he has kept faith even in absence, has incarnated and awakened and is standing there before him. It is time to remember both the letter of his vows, and the spirit. His nerves shimmer with it.

The inspection takes them outside, and Tseng kneels to lace Cloud’s boots before donning his own shoes. The idle talk continues, of weaponscraft and leatherwork and Cloud’s flock of racing chocobos, currently stabled in North Corel. The Temple’s mountain pastures should suit them well. Tseng never deviates from his rightful place, two steps back and one to the side.

(6)

At dusk Cloud says, “Go wash up, and meet me in the master chamber.”

“Yes, Sir.” The master chamber is just that – Gold Weapon’s personal quarters when he is in residence. When he’s not, the chamber is used for certain kinds of training, so Tseng has seen it often. It’s bare of decoration now, lit only by the dim glow of Cloud’s materia. There is a square of bedding laid out in the middle of the floor; Tseng kneels there, unclothed, and waits for his master to arrive.

When Cloud enters, his skin is still beaded with water; he too is naked, and Tseng can’t help licking his lips. Cloud grins at him. “Did you think of me often?”

“Yes, Sir.” His pulse is raised, and so is his breath. He hisses as Cloud’s wing brushes his shoulder. “As both Cloud and Gold Weapon.”

“How long has it been,” asks Cloud, “Since anyone touched you?”

“Years.” Tseng doesn’t recall the exact count, and it doesn’t matter now. He may as well be a virgin, his mind no longer used to intense sensation.

Cloud, it seems, is thinking the same thing. “There’s no rush.” He sits behind Tseng, his chest not quite touching Tseng’s back. “Breathe with me.”

Tseng closes his eyes and focuses on the being behind him. By sound and feel he matches the pace of his breaths to Cloud’s. _In … and out …_ Although they aren’t touching, Tseng is hyper-aware of Cloud’s presence. That is the point of the exercise; to hone the acolyte’s senses, and to teach the intimacy that came from surrendering control of one’s body. _In … and out …_ The simplicity of the exercise enhances its power. Tseng’s skin is flushed; his nipples harden and his cock isn’t far behind. Cloud’s breath warms his neck every time they exhale. 

_In … and out …_ Random thoughts flicker through Tseng’s mind. How his fellow Turks have never seen him react so strongly to anything. That it’s fortunate this room is free of drafts. That the Temple’s lore says that Gold Weapon pleasures a new companion for three nights before entering them for the first time. This is only the beginning. _In … and out …_ Tseng does not know how long he kneels there, breathing in unison with Cloud; all his attention is on his task and on his Lord. 

(7)

Cloud signals the end of the exercise by laying his hands on Tseng’s thighs. He sucks in a breath, breaking the rhythm.

“Well done,” Cloud purrs into his ear. He leans forward, and the tip of his cock brushes Tseng’s cleft. Tseng shivers; Cloud, Gold Weapon is hard for him. “Come for me.” 

Tseng does so with a gasp. This part of his training has held true, despite going unused since he left the Temple. As he slumps back in the aftermath, Cloud rubs against him and splatters his seed across Tseng’s back. He pulls Tseng down onto the bedding to lick him clean. Tseng wonders how it tastes; the lore says like tea, but that seems like a poetic exaggeration. Cloud rols him over, a mischievous look on his face. “Want a taste?”

“Yes, Sir.” Cloud brings their lips together, and he _does_ taste like tea; astringent, fragrant and a hint of sweetness. Tseng starts to harden again. “Eager,” murmurs Cloud. He stretches out beside Tseng and drapes a wing over them like a blanket.


	2. Chapter 2

(1)

On the fourth day, Cloud wipes off Tseng’s tilak and replaces it with a red one. He still has Tseng wear his suit, and Tseng suspects that the Temple uniform has a new addition.

He can feel the changes already. Besides the aches in unaccustomed places, and the pool of Gold Weapon’s essence at his center – his senses are sharper, his reflexes quicker than they were a week before. It’s a subtler enhancement than Soldier, and a far more stable one; Shinra’s scientists got their ideas from somewhere.

(2)

He takes a handful of gil to the nearest village for supplies. Gold Weapon may be able to subsist on mako and monster flesh, but Tseng needs more commonplace fare – and as Cloud points out, even if he _can_ eat a Malboro, he wouldn’t _want_ to. Rice, beans, vegetables, salt; these are more practical for the Temple to buy than to produce.

Rural memory is long, and the Temple has been neighbour and guardian to this region far longer than it has stood empty. He inquires about monster and bandit activity, and while he has PHS reception, messages the Turks to change their meeting place to Wutai. He passed through here on his way up to the Temple, so the villagers know his face; they remember what it means when a man from the Temple wears a red tilak. The elders bow and ask his blessing. Boys try to bait him with lewd questions; he answers calmly. It is no shame to lie in Cloud’s bed, to have his Lord over him and inside him.

(3)

He wakes in languid contentment, Cloud’s wing draped over both of them; Tseng idly runs his hand up Cloud’s side. Cloud responds by carding his fingers through Tseng’s hair, and Tseng mumbles something which might be a prayer.

They make breakfast together, Wutai-style rice and pickles. Cloud takes every opportunity to brush his hand across Tseng’s shoulder or his wing along his hip; the heat of his touch seems to linger on his skin. The affection surprises him. He has gotten used to having none, for his duties at Shinra left no time for such things; the Temple lore says much about what is expected from Gold Weapon’s companions, but little of what they might receive.

He says as much to Cloud, who laughs. “Someone probably thought affection was beneath a leader’s dignity.”

“Fools,” says Tseng. He offers his throat, and Cloud bites it.

(4)

Gold Weapon has work to do, and more use for Tseng than as a plaything. Thus, they are making a trip to Wutai.

“This should be fun,” says Cloud. “Yuffie doesn’t know yet.”

“How are you planning to get there, Sir?” Cloud owns several vehicles and chocobos, but none of them are here yet, and Wutai is a good three days away on foot. Cloud just chuckles, and starts to grow.

His new form is enormous. Bigger than a Nibel Dragon, he has a golden coat of feathers, a beak, and arm-long talons on each limb. He holds out his foreclaw, palm upward; obedient, Tseng climbs onto it. “Don’t worry, I won’t drop you.” Cloud tucks him against his feathered chest, and then he takes off.

Only Tseng’s training keeps him calm in the Weapon’s grip. Cloud covers the distance to Wutai in under an hour; he circles a few times before landing outside the gates. He sets Tseng down; Tseng straightens his suit and steadies the slight tremor in his knees, his changing body slick with wanting. Cloud folds back into his human form. It’s sadly unlikely that he’ll take the time to ravish Tseng before going into the city.

Cloud gives him a sideways smirk. “We’ll be flying back, too, you know.”

“Sir.” Full body shiver.

(5)

Cloud strolls right up the main street to the palace, with Tseng at his heel as usual. The palace guards let them pass without challenge; Tseng raises an eyebrow at their sloppiness.

Yuffie greets Cloud with a squeal and a hug, and points a finger at Tseng. “Hey, I know you.”

“We’ve met.” Tseng kneels behind and to the side of Cloud’s seat cushion. Yuffie yells for someone to bring tea.

“Anyway, what’s with the wings, Cloud?”

“Well … have you ever heard of Gold Weapon?”

“Of course! It’s this weird kami that runs a temple of ninja monks and takes human form and OH MY PLANET SERIOUSLY?” Yuffie literally jumps up and down in agitation. “Do I bow, or what? Crap, I shouldn’t have skipped etiquette class!”

Cloud laughs at her. “Relax, Yuffie, I’m not picky about that stuff.”

“… Can I touch them?”

“Not unless you’re going to take Temple vows.”

Yuffie blushes bright red, which proves she knows more than a well-bred lady should about those vows.

(6)

Into this embarrassed silence arrives a priest from the Temple of Leviathan. “Lord Gold Weapon, we are honoured by your presence.”

“I just dropped in to say hi to Yuffie. And to let you know I’m fixing up the Temple, getting the workshops running, and I’ll be looking for what happened to the rest of my acolytes.”

The priest tries to conceal a sneer. “So, you could not find anyone better than a Turk as your servant.”

“No. I could not.” Cloud’s wingtip briefly brushes against his arm; Tseng’s ears heat up. Yuffie stifles a snicker.

“You’re kind of adorable when you’re not, you know, trying to shoot me.”

“But, Princess, this man is – ”

“Don’t care!” Yuffie flaps her hands at the priest. “How are you doing, Tseng? Sephiroth did a number on you.”

Tseng almost-smiles. “I am quite well, thank you.”

“Cool. Hey, Cloud, have you run across any cool material lately?” Oh, she has _no idea._

(7)

Back at the Temple, Cloud sets Tseng down long enough to change shape, and then presses him against the stable wall. A twist of magic and his suit vanishes; Cloud wraps Tseng’s legs around his waist. With his hands under Tseng’s thighs to support his weight, he lines up the tip of his cock with Tseng’s entrance and pauses there. Tseng struggles to keep his breathing steady; his senses are already heightened from hours of anticipation. He can feel the muscles of his opening fluttering, trying to draw Cloud into himself, but that’s not his decision to make.

“Look at me, Tseng.” He focuses on Cloud’s face, meets his gaze and is caught in it. Cloud seems to be looking into his very soul. Slowly, so very slowly, he lowers Tseng onto his cock. The head enters him a millimetre at a time; his inner muscles twitch and ripple in welcome. Cloud mantles his wings over them, blocking any sight but his eyes which glow with more than mako. He doesn’t move his hips, lets gravity do the work of pushing his cock deeper.

By the halfway point, Tseng’s breath is ragged, his own cock hard and dripping from the pleasure of having his Lord within him. He considers begging, knows it will change nothing. What spills from his lips instead are the prayers and praises he learned in youth, their meaning deeper now that he speaks them face to face with his Lord. Cloud takes nearly an hour to sheath himself fully. Never once does Tseng look away from his azure gaze.

Eventually he comes to rest against Cloud’s hips. Outwardly he is still, held captive by Cloud’s hands and his eyes; he’s on the verge of climax from it. Within, his body is in constant, pleading motion around Cloud’s shaft. Cloud rocks his hips sharply, once, and that is enough to send him over the edge. He clenches hard on Cloud’s cock. It pulses, pouring Cloud’s seed into him. It’s warm with his magic, the only thing in his world for an endless moment.

Awareness returns, and Cloud has turned them so he’s the one leaning on the wall, still holding Tseng up. His wings envelope and shelter him. He murmurs ancient phrases in Tseng’s ear, the counterparts to the prayers Tseng spoke. A while later when they have rested, he withdraws from Tseng’s body in one smooth stroke. Tseng still feels his power lingering within him.


	3. Chapter 3

(1)

Tseng doesn’t see the chocobos arrive. Cloud has determined that the flock should settle in their stable before meeting a new handler; he has given Tseng a different assignment. Starting at dawn, he sits in the meditation hall – bound wrist to wrist, ankle to thigh, with white linen rope. It is no hardship. He has experienced more complex ties, both in training and in the line of duty; to stay calm while bound is a skill that has served him well. Eyes closed, he breathes in the scents of home. 

Here, the rope is a respite. It signals that he need not be ready to act, because he cannot; he can lay his safety in the hands of others, and rest. He hears the roar of the Highwind’s engines, but does not heed them. Soon after that, the raucous cries of chocobos. Cid’s inventive cursing brings an almost-smile to his lips.

When Cloud comes to unbind him, Tseng stretches under his hands as after a long sleep. “I needed that,” he murmurs. He does not care that Cid is standing in the doorway, even though Tseng is dressed in nothing but rope.

“The hell kind of temple is this?” Cid grumbles.

“The fun kind,” answers Cloud.

(2)

Among the supplies that the Highwind has brought is clothing. For the noon meal, Cloud has Tseng dress in an older version of the Temple’s uniform, which consists only of loose trousers and wristbands. This is, in part, to tease Cid, who keeps giving sideways looks at his bare chest. Red marks from his bindings still linger on his skin.

Or perhaps it is Tseng’s subordinate demeanor which surprises Cid. “How the fuck did you tame this asshole, Cloud? You can’t fucking tell me you used a damn chocobo lure on him.”

“Trade secret,” Cloud replies. Tseng, keeping a serene expression, refills his Lord’s teacup. Neither of them are bothered by their history. It’s expected for an acolyte who contracts out to stay loyal to his employer, even if that sets him against other acolytes. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” Cid yells. “The Turks spent years trying to stop you, and now one of them is your goddamn butler!”

“Tseng is very skilled,” says Cloud, “in more ways than one.”

“Too much fucking information.”

(3) 

Cloud brings Tseng to the now full chocobo field, and steps among the flock; he returns with his hand on the shoulder of a sleek, long-legged bird. Its plumage is navy blue. “Nice, huh? This is Blue Midnight. He’s a color-variant of a black, the rest of his clutch are the same. Saddle him up and see what you think.”

Tseng knows how to ride, of course. Any acolyte or Turk has to be familiar with common modes of transportation. But Blue Midnight has as much in common with a wild chocobo as a motorbike has with a wheelbarrow. He is sure-footed on the mountain trails and a speed demon on the flat; responsive to commands and with a smooth, floating gait. No wonder Cloud could fund all of Avalanche with his race winnings.

Cloud pounds up to him on a spectacular gold chocobo that matches his own feathers; his wings are hidden away for the moment. “Well?”

“It’s the second-best thing I’ve ever had between my legs, Sir.”

Cloud laughs out loud. “Race you!” Two chocobos launch themselves along the trail.

(4)

Cloud introduces Tseng to the rest of the flock and they work together to settle the birds for the night. There are birds of all colors, both common and rare. With no more mako to fuel engines, chocobos will soon become valuable. The Temple’s resources grow, as do its chores; Tseng looks forward to having more hands available.

Not that the chocobos give Cloud any trouble. He has a way with them; he did even before his powers awakened. Tseng thinks, irreverently, that it’s because Cloud is a feathered being himself.

(5) 

“Prepare yourself, Tseng,” says Cloud when the sun descends towards evening. Heat rises up Tseng’s spine. He suspected that this morning’s exercise was a prelude to something more. He bathes with meticulous attention, orders his thoughts, and kneels unclothed at the foot of Cloud’s bed.

Cloud sets a coil of rope in front of him. “Inspect it,” he says softly. The instruction brings a frisson; it’s a rule Tseng knows well. If an acolyte’s life will depend on the ropes, he inspects them from end to end first. He looks not only for weak spots, but also debris and loose fibers that could chafe. It’s a lot of rope. The days’ light is fading to red when he lays the coils at Cloud’s feet.

“I find no flaw in these ropes, Sir.”

“Good. Stand.”

Cloud wraps Tseng in an intricate web, arms legs and torso. Tseng knows this tie only by description, and his heart races. He stands steady, moving only as Cloud directs him. Cloud’s touch is not sensual, not yet – he is concentrating on getting this right. Perhaps he has spells which could serve as backup, but Tseng’s safety will depend first on the ropes.

Cloud half-shifts, to a form about twice the size of his human self, and begins the next stage of the tie, wrapping the ropes around himself. Tseng is bound with his back to Cloud’s chest, thighs to thighs, buttocks just above Cloud’s sheath. Cloud tests the knots a final time, then throws open the balcony doors and leaps into the air.

(6)

Tseng shudders. This is both like and unlike their previous flights. Then, he was enclosed in a massive claw; now his skin is open to the wind. He is afraid – a distant, animal fear of having nothing under his feet. In this vastness, there is no room for pride. He must trust that the ropes will hold him, that Cloud’s strength will not falter. With every beat his wings fill Tseng’s vision for a moment, fiery with evening’s light. Soon his heartbeat slows.

It’s silent up here save for the steady thump of Cloud’s wings, and his purr against Tseng’s back. It should be cold, but Cloud’s aura warms him.

Cloud’s foreclaw caresses his chest, velvet soft, and he sighs with pleasure. Below, Cloud’s cock emerges from its sheath and presses against his entrance; Tseng is so relaxed that it slips inside easily. Cloud’s claw drops lower to stroke Tseng’s cock as he opens him up. This form is larger there, too, and he can feel the stretch. He is breathless with how many ways he is bared to his Lord. And exposed to all the world, though no one is near enough to see him.

Cloud purrs a blessing into Tseng’s ear. He lets the movement of his flight thrust his cock into Tseng’s body in long, rolling strokes. Heat starts to build at hs center. “Come,” Cloud whispers, and he does, Spilling his seed on the wind. A moment later, Cloud reaches his own climax inside him; the sensation draws out his pleasure.

Both sated, they linger a while, watching the stars come out; then Cloud drifts slowly back down to earth.


	4. Chapter 4

(1)

The first thing out of Reno’s mouth is, “Holy – Boss-man got laid!”

No one but a Turk would notice it, but it’s true; Tseng’s movement is looser, his expressions more open. Slightly. “Status,” he asks them.

“Ready for duty,” says Rude, and Elena nods agreement.

“Same here,” says Reno. “Only, what duty? You better have a job lined up, Boss-man, cause we’ve got jack and shit.”

Tseng almost-smirks. “Collect your gear.” They don’t have much luggage; Turks travel light. With smooth efficiency they check out of the Inn, while Reno fishes for information about Tseng’s sex life. 

“I thought you had, like, a vow of chastity or something, yo. How did this girl even get your attention? Or is it a guy? Which way do you even swing, yo?” Tseng ignores him, along with Rude and Elena who are pretending not to listen in. They are all competent enough to draw conclusions without him saying anything, and he doesn’t want them to get bored.

(2)

“Transportation?” Rude asks as they step into the street. In answer, Tseng puts his fingers to his lips and whistles sharply. A moment later, Blue Midnight and three of his clutch-mates stride up to them.

Rude whistles softly. Elena squees. Reno exclaims, “What kind of sugar daddy did you hook up with, yo?”

Tseng’s smile expands into a visible expression. “You’ve met him. Mount up, we have some ground to cover.”

(3)

Tseng feels more than sees sunlight flicker as Cloud, airborne, passes his shadow over them in signal. One, two, three; the road ahead is clear. The navy-blue chocobos barely slow as they hit the mountain trail. Reno’s praises of the birds grow steadily louder and more profane and culminate with, “Whose dick do I gotta suck to get one of these?” as they halt in the Temple courtyard.

“They’re not for sale.” Cloud touches down on the stable roof and leaps to the ground. “Hi, guys. Welcome to the Temple of Gold Weapon. Tseng, show them where to put their stuff; I’ll tend the chocobos.”

“Sir.” The other Turks stare at him; he has never spoken in that tone of voice to anyone, not even Rufus Shinra.

“What the actual fuck, Boss,” says Reno once they’re inside. “That was Cloud fucking Strife, yo.”

“Yes. That is also Gold Weapon.”

“Who you are a follower of,” Elena concluded. 

“Correct.” He takes them to the upper level, where acolyte cells line the hallway on both sides, and tells them to pick quarters for themselves.

“You grew up here,” Rude muses.

“Yes. Drop your gear and I’ll read you in.”

(4)

“And Cloud Strife is Gold Weapon? How long have you known?”

“Only after I returned here. Even he did not know it until after Meteorfall.” Tseng tells them of the incarnations of Gold Weapon, how he begins each life as an ordinary mortal. Granted, Gold Weapon usually deals with world-ending dangers after awakening, not before. “The Temple of Gold Weapon is located in Wutai, but it’s not, itself, Wutaian. This place was old when the Ancients lived here.” That’s the way it’s told to every new acolyte. The Turks listen avidly as Tseng continues, “The purpose of the Temple is to act as personal servants for Gold Weapon.”

“In bed?” Reno waggles his eyebrows.

“Among other things.” Only acolytes who take the inner vows learn those skills; all learn spycraft and assassination.

“Your reactions have gotten faster,” Rude comments.

“It happens to anyone who partakes of Gold Weapon’s essence.”

“I never heard it called that before,” says Reno. He has always been more of a hedonist than the others; Tseng wonders how he’ll react to the strict discipline and training that acolytes undergo.

(5)

Tseng’s cell is the one next to the master chamber, but he rarely uses it. Come evening, he’s kneeling on Cloud’s bedding with a wing across his lap. “What do you think?” says Cloud, “Will the other Turks suit the Temple?” He is lying face down on the blankets, his head resting on crossed arms beside Tseng’s hip.

“Reno would swear any vow just to ride your chocobos.” Tseng’s hands skim through golden feathers, tidying a hard-to-reach patch on the back of the wing. “Rude is interested in the Temple’s outer work, but not the inner, I think.”

“I can work with that.” Cloud’s other wing flexes against the blankets when Tseng finds a sensitive spot. “Mmm, right there. You have clever fingers.”

Tseng blushes at the praise. “Elena is curious, but shy.” He judges it’s a matter of lingering social norms, rather than personal misgivings. In the past the Temple has usually been all male, but Cloud can change the rules as he pleases. And Elena seemed interested in Cloud, in their encounters before his powers emerged.

Tseng runs a feather through his fingers. It’s firm and smooth; the barbs flex with his touch. Each feather is unique, distinct from its neighbors, but all blend together in the contour of the wing. Cloud says, “I have some leftover experiments to clean up, and a potential plague to stop. It’ll be good to have backup.”

Cloud’s former crew have scattered to their own lives and pursuits. The Turks, however, are professionals, and Tseng has no doubts about placing them in Cloud’s hands. “I have full confidence in their skills, Sir.” Tseng’s fingers find another sensitive spot, and Cloud purrs.

(6)

Cloud raises himself up and kneels facing Tseng. He cups his wings around him, sheltering him on all sides. He rests his hands on Tseng’s shoulders for a moment, then slides them up his neck and into his hair. Tseng usually wears it tied back, but not here; he comes to his Lord’s chamber in nothing but his own skin. He whispers a prayer, and bends his head to Cloud’s touch.

The fingers through his hair ease the tension the day’s tasks have brought. He lets his breathing match Cloud’s, deep and steady. He’s hard, and he sees that Cloud is too, just from the simple pleasures of touching and being touched. There’s a drop of fluid at the tip of Cloud’s cock, and Tseng licks his lip. Perhaps he will be permitted to taste it. Or perhaps Cloud will bring him to climax just by stroking his hair. He’s already close.

Outside, he can faintly hear the other Turks lurking in the corridor, curious about what he and Cloud are doing. Sadly for them, the door to the master chamber is built in a way that leaves no gaps to peek through. Not that there would be much to see, with Cloud’s wings enclosing him. Their warmth sinks into his bones; Cloud pulls his head down against his shoulder and presses his fingers deeper into his scalp. He reduces Tseng to a boneless mass and then, after a little while, guides him downward to his cock. Tseng swallows it eagerly.

Silken heat against his lips, fragrance on his tongue. Blunt pressure filling his throat. Cloud rises up on his heels so he can move. Tseng’s arms lack the strength to support him, so Cloud holds him up by the shoulders as he thrusts. Slow and smooth, in time with their breathing; Tseng breathes out as Cloud withdraws, breathes in as he pushes in, and holds his breath when he fills his throat. Cloud is taking his time, and Tseng purrs around him at this sign that his Lord is pleased with him. His own cock is aching with arousal but he, too, wants to linger in this moment.

Eventually, Cloud pours his seed onto Tseng’s tongue, its flavour like the finest tea. He lays Tseng down, still limp with bliss; he slides a finger between his legs and strokes him from the inside until he comes, gently but deeply, shuddering with the power of it. Cloud murmurs a blessing and draws the blankets over them, then drapes a wing over all.


	5. Chapter 5

(1)

With the other Turks around, the Temple is much closer to the lively place Tseng remembers from his youth. For their part, Reno, Rude and Elena are still bemused by the idea of ‘Tseng’s childhood home’ … and by seeing Tseng in various states of undress. And with more hands to share the chores, Cloud announces that he is starting up the forge.

Metalwork is another skill that acolytes are taught; Tseng’s specialty is bronze and brasswork. “Sir, may I …” he trails off, not quite willing to speak of one of the Temple’s secrets aloud. Cloud grins at him.

“Of course! I’m going in there anyway.” He turns to the three others. “You can come along if you swear never to reveal what you see.”

He might as well dangle catnip in front of a cat. All three pledge their silence, and the rest of their breakfast vanishes in seconds.

(2) 

Still grinning, Cloud leads the way to the cellars which are carved into the mountain rock. These caverns are old, and almost bare – stripped by the acolytes as they left, and then by Shinra troopers looking for anything of value. But Shinra never found the Temple’s real treasure.

“I’ll bet it’s, like, a mountain of gil,” Reno speculates. “Or jewels the size of our heads. C’mon, Tseng, can’t you give us a hint?”

“No.” Tseng is looking forward to their reactions.

“You want to do the honors?” Cloud invites him, waving at an apparently blank wall.

“Sir.” A hidden latch, a push, and the whole wall swings inward. Beyond it, a stairwell plunges deeper into the rock. A few decoy chests stand to the side, along with a panel of floor tiles which would usually cover the stairwell.

“Nice,” says Rude of the subterfuge.

“Nobody has ever gotten farther than this without approval,” Cloud says proudly. At the bottom of the stairs, a locked door leads to the outer vault, which is piled high with tools, books and weapons.

“… Is that a box of sex toys?” asks Reno.

“Yes.”

“ _Why do they have materia slots?_ ”

(3)

Beyond that is a final door, this one sealed by a combination lock with blank cylinders. Cloud opens it with practiced ease. “I’m serious, you three; this place does not exist. And keep your hands to yourselves.” He swings the door open.

“Fuck me,” breathes Reno. The room beyond is stacked with hundreds of materia, collected through the Temple’s long history, with the oldest and rarest nestled into individual cases. They fill the shelves that ring the room and the cabinets that stand at its center. Atop the cabinets, trays hold the materia that Cloud collected in his current lifetime, including the Black, White and Master materia.

“Yuffie would shit her pants,” muses Elena. Tseng just lets the glow wash over him.

“Tseng,” says Cloud, “Do you have a particular one you’d like to work with?”

“May I have Moai?” Tseng learned his metalworking with – and in some sense, from – the ancient Fire materia, and remembers it fondly. Cloud takes the familiar bronze case from the shelf, and Tseng accepts it with a bow. Moai pulses recognition and greeting at him.

“They all have names,” says Rude. He’s staring over the top of his sunglasses.

“Some of these materia were old in the time of the Ancients.” Cloud picks up the oldest box of all, this one carved from solid jade. “With these, I can really get to work.”

(4)

At the heart of the Temple’s forge is is a round stone hearth. Rather than charcoal, it’s filled with clean quartz sand – and around its rim are five materia slots. Cloud opens the jade box and sets five Fire materia in them. Aet, Goa, Skeith, Kath and Myr; they may well be the oldest materia on Gaia. Cloud sends his magic through them and the sand begins to heat.

Tseng assigns the Turks to their chores – eventually they’ll know enough to organise themselves, but for now they need guidance. He arranges his own workspace; he has a basket of brass hinges and latches which need repair. He lays out solder and flux, files, and pliers, with Moai in its case at the center.

Cloud selects his tools, and when the time is right, pulls a glowing red bar of metal from the forge sands. He lays it on the anvil; the ringing of hammer on steel fills the air, announcing that the Temple is fully operational once more. One of the more subtle ways Gold Weapon deals with threats to the Planet is to create blades that can face up to the fiercest of monsters. Tseng has seen the drawings of the next project, a massive sword made up of several smaller blades. Currently Cloud is working on a simple blade, a mere practice piece compared to the legendary weapons the Temple is renowned for.

The forge soon warms up. Tseng sheds his jacket and rolls up his shirtsleeves; Cloud goes shirtless entirely. He has no need to worry about injuring himself or setting his feathers on fire. The view is mildly distracting.

(5)

Cloud quenches the steel and sets it aside. He catches Tseng’s eye; Tseng lays down his tools and stands up. This time Cloud doesn’t use the vanish spell on Tseng’s clothes; instead, he orders him to undress. Tseng’s jacket is already neatly folded on the workbench. His shirt joins it, followed by his shoes and socks. There are a dozen reasons why it’s dangerous to be unclothed in a forge; it sends a shiver up his back that his Lord is asking this of him. 

He takes more time with the trousers, knowing that Cloud is watching him. He bends over to slide the trousers off, and Cloud purrs. Tseng calmly folds the trousers and lays them on the stack of clothing; finally, he unbinds his hair and sets the hair tie down.

Now that the sound of the hammer has stopped, the other Turks wander in to see what Cloud is up to. “Um … Boss, why are you naked?” asks Elena.

“The usual reasons.”

“If you don’t want to see it, you might want to leave the room,” says Cloud.

Reno leers, “And if we do want to see it, yo?”

“Watch quietly, you might learn something.” For one, that an acolyte’s demeanor is calm, collected and utterly without shame.

(6)

Cloud throws a leather pad over the anvil, and at a gesture Tseng bends himself over it. Warmth lingers in the metal. The symbolism of his position is not lost on him; as an acolyte he, too, has been forged into a tool for his Lord. He almost-smiles at the thought. 

Cloud trails his fingers from Tseng’s neck down his back and around to his thighs. Then he does the same with his wings. The tip of his cock finds Tseng’s entrance and smoothly slides in. Tseng knows it well now. With his enhanced senses he can discern every ridge and contour, each with its own pleasures to discover. Cloud mounts him slow and deep; Tseng wraps his arms around the anvil horn to keep himself in place and relaxes into the strokes.

Cloud’s hands press against his back and he arches into them, murmuring a prayer. He is so intent on enjoying the sensations of Cloud’s body that the order to come is a surprise. He does so, splattering his seed on the anvil’s base, inner muscles gripping Cloud’s cock. By the time he is coherent again, Cloud has come as well. He lifts Tseng from the anvil and wraps him in his wings.

Tseng spares a glance at Reno; he’s still watching, wide-eyed, with his hand down his pants. Tseng suspects he will be painting a tilak on Reno’s forehead sometime soon.


End file.
